


cowboy like me

by araviis



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, also a college au i guess? although none of this actually takes place in college, it's a conmen au!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28484379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araviis/pseuds/araviis
Summary: Hugh Culber, pre-med, has it all figured out.  He runs the perfect con, dating wealthy men and using their expensive gifts to pay for his tuition.  His latest mark is putty in his hands, and he could live in luxury forever if he wanted to.But when he encounters a certain mycologist with a similar con in play, the game changes.  He never thought he'd meet someone like himself.  Now what is he going to do?
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Original Male Character(s), Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31





	1. takes one to know one

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so SO pumped for people to read this fic. I hope you all like it!
> 
> And special thanks to velos_mush for looking this over for me.

“For you, gorgeous.”

Hugh sits up and accepts the daiquiri that appears in his hand. Stephen sits on the couch beside him, watching as he takes a tentative sip.

“Beautiful,” he tells Stephen. “Thank you, baby.”

Stephen smiles at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

Hugh relaxes back against the suede of the couch, tucking in against the other man. “You take such good care of me.”

Hugh’s grown good at this con. He’s done well; his last semester of pre-med is approaching fast and he’s still debt free - every gift from every wealthy man has been sold for college funds, and he’s always got out quickly, before things turn sour. It’s the perfect life.

Then again - he’s had an idea lately, a thought of staying with Stephen. It’s not how the con goes, but Stephen is different, the sweetest mark he’s ever had. His company is lovely, too, really lovely; he’s sensitive and intelligent, wrapped around Hugh’s finger, and he’s even young, still in his twenties, everything Hugh always thought he wanted. This is a con that could last forever. He could live in luxury for the rest of his life _and_ be a doctor, without even touching his mom’s meagre finances. He could have it all.

“...Hugh?”

He blinks, snapped back into the room by Stephen’s anxious voice.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen continues, gentle. “Was I boring you?”

Hugh twists around a little to touch Stephen’s cheek. “Of course not, baby. I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

Concern crosses Stephen’s face. “Is everything alright?”

“Perfectly. You’re sweet to worry, but there’s no need.”

“You work too hard, you know.”

Hugh smiles. “I’m on vacation now, though.”

“I had an idea about that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Well, I’ve got an apartment up in the city. I really keep it for business trips, but, well, we could go see the sights, hit the club, a couple of shows. Let off some steam.”

“Really? You don’t have to work?”

“I have to work,” Stephen admits, “but I thought maybe you’d still like to come with me. I’m supposed to be there for a whole month, and you’ve got the time off school, right?”

“I’ve never been to New York.” The idea appeals, though. Previous marks have showered Hugh with expensive gifts he could sell for college funds, or just money itself, but nobody’s ever taken him away before. He can’t sell that - he’ll have to enjoy it.

“Tomorrow?” Stephen presses, grinning at him. Hugh leans forward and kisses him, warm and eager.

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

New York City is _beautiful_.

Stephen’s Soho apartment is cosy rather than spacious, but it’s perfect all the same - Hugh will need to keep on top of his reading anyway, while Stephen works; and the bed is fresh and comfortable, stiffer than the one in Stephen’s Philly house.

The first day is spent relaxing at Stephen’s insistence; they eat lunch at a café and walk through the park, just lightly dusted with snow, before heading back to the apartment, where Hugh makes a simple bhuna and Stephen praises him like he’d invented lamb. The second day is filled with sightseeing - Stephen’s done all this before, but to Hugh it’s brand new and full of glamour. The shops are something else, too. Hugh threads his arm through Stephen’s and lets him buy most, but not all, the presents he can think of. A twinge of guilt prevents him accepting the diamond-studded watch Stephen thinks would suit him so well. _Odd_. Hugh’s never once felt bad about his con before. He can’t afford to go soft.

That afternoon takes them to the library, where they both have work to do.

“A couple of hours,” Stephen promises, “ _maximum_ ,” and they part ways with a squeeze of the hands. Hugh wonders briefly why Stephen doesn’t kiss him, but he’s soon distracted, rifling through the extensive medical resources to see what takes his fancy. He wants to focus on patient care, not research, but it’s good to keep apprised of all that’s changing in the world. Medicine never sits still.

He gathers a stack of journals and wanders, looking for a place to sit. In one alcove, a mother pores over a physics textbook while her two children, in the corner with a picture book, giggle and whisper. The noise would drive him crazy. In the next sits a grouchy-looking old man with a certain smell that Hugh would like to avoid. But the third…

Hugh’s breath catches in his throat. The stranger is _stunning_ \- overworked, a bit manic-looking, lean and blond and pale, typing furiously and surrounded by textbooks. Hugh squints. Textbooks about mushrooms?

“Excuse me,” Hugh begins, speaking in a low voice - this is a _library_ , after all.

The man looks up at him. Blue eyes widen for a split second before hardening into disdain. “Yes?”

“May I-”

Hugh gestures at the empty seat opposite him.

“No,” the stranger says, but there’s something intriguing in that tone that makes Hugh hesitate. Blunt, clever, and very, very pretty - this man’s a kind of appealing he’s never seen before, but he’s here with Stephen, and dating for himself has to wait till after med school anyway. He moves on without glancing back.

He misses the glimmer of regret on the stranger’s face.

* * *

“You’re quiet,” Stephen observes.

Hugh is on the edge of his seat, craning to see the stage from their box as Carmen tells Don José to return to his mother. “Hmm?”

Stephen shuffles closer. “I said you’re very quiet tonight.”

Hugh smiles at him, briefly. “Shush,” he whispers, “I don’t want to miss a second of this.” He turns his full attention back to the show.

It’s not until the walk home that Hugh realises that Stephen has taken him at his word and stayed silent all night. He links their arms together and kisses his cheek.

Stephen shies away. “Don’t try to make up,” he says, a little bitterness in his tone.

Hugh stares. “What?”

Stephen shakes his head and tries to pull away. Hugh grasps his arm tighter.

“Baby, talk to me.” He steps closer again. “Please. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Stephen…”

Stephen wrenches his arm free. Hugh is stronger, could pull him back, but he lets go, bewildered, as Stephen hurries ahead.

“Stephen?”

Hugh has to jog to keep up, and he tries to talk, but nothing he can say or do will thaw the frost that’s risen between them.

The days tick by, and Stephen softens, but not much. Maybe Hugh made a mistake. This con has run twice as long as any other - maybe he shouldn’t have let it. With any other mark he’d have cut and run by now, especially with all this ice. He thought Stephen was different, but...

One more night. He can do it. They’re going to the club tonight, and Hugh works miracles in a club. Give him a black dress shirt, tight pants, a little eyeliner, and every eye in the place will be on him. He’ll pick a pretty boy to flirt with, spark a bit of jealousy. Stephen won’t be able to resist staking his claim.

Right?

* * *

“I don’t really feel up to this,” Stephen grouses as they enter the club side by side.

Hugh takes his hand. He doesn’t pull away; that’s something. “Please,” he says, “just for an hour. Then we can go somewhere else.”

“One hour.”

Hugh smiles and nudges him with his elbow. “It was a night just like this when we met. Do you remember? I was just looking for a fun night out, you were grousing in the corner…”

“And you could have gone home with any beautiful man in that place, but you came and talked to _me_ ,” Stephen finishes. “Yes. I remember.”

Hugh squeezes his hand. “You know… if I’d picked anyone else, I’d have had a fun night - and that would have been all. Instead, I met you. Sweet, caring, intelligent _you_. I feel very lucky.”

Finally Stephen melts, just a little. “I was the lucky one that night. It’s still hard to believe you want me.”

Oh. Poor dear. Stephen is, Hugh has to admit, pretty ordinary-looking, and some people would find him dull. Maybe he’s not had anything real before.

 _This_ isn’t real, he reminds himself, stern. There’s a plan for tonight. He squeezes Stephen’s hand, lifts it, kisses it. “Come on. Let’s go enjoy ourselves. And just remember, whatever happens, I’m coming home with _you_.”

They kiss, once, and Stephen lets go of Hugh’s hand. “Have fun,” he whispers, “and find me soon.”

“I will.”

Hugh turns and heads for the bar. He can feel Stephen’s eyes on him, his body, his bare arms, his ass. He adds a little wiggle, just for Stephen’s benefit; other eyes follow him. He ignores it. Ten minutes, he promises himself - ten minutes at least before he’ll allow anyone to hit on him; because Stephen is watching.

Hugh orders, leaning his back against the bar and scanning the room. The dance floor is full of couples enjoying themselves; showing off for one another; kissing.

Hugh looks again. _Him_?

The stranger from the library, the beautiful reader who had been so rude and _so_ interesting. He looks so different now, his tongue halfway down another man’s throat, hands on his shoulders, back, ass -

The stranger slips his hands into his partner’s jeans pocket, caressing there, and withdraws - with the man’s wallet in his hands.

His eyes open, wicked and satisfied, and then his gaze meets Hugh’s.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, jaw hanging open. _You’re like me._


	2. dancing is a dangerous game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether Hugh likes it or not, his stranger's determined to get to know him.
> 
> (Hugh might kind of like it.)

“Stephen!”

Stephen lowers his drink and stares at Hugh as he shoves his way through the crowd. “Hi. Didn’t you want to dance?”

Hugh grabs his wrists. “Only if _you’ll_ dance with me.”

“Has something happened?”

Hugh glances back, searching, desperate to ensure those intense blue eyes aren’t watching him. He doesn’t see his stranger anywhere.

“Hugh?”

“If you don’t want to dance, that’s okay,” Hugh barrels on, “I’ll stay right here. We’ll talk, or - or make out, or _something_ , just… let’s be together.”

Stephen’s brow furrows with concern, and he gently frees himself from Hugh’s grip to intertwine their fingers. “Hey,” he says, “come here. Sit with me. What’s wrong?”

Hugh slumps down beside him and huddles in against Stephen’s side, accepting the comfort and safety on offer. Stephen’s arm wraps around him tightly and he presses a kiss against Hugh’s forehead.

“Talk to me,” he presses. “Did someone upset you?”

“No. No,” Hugh promises, and grips Stephen’s hand. “I just…”

And the lie is right there waiting for him.

“I know you’re being sweet,” he says, “and letting me have a good time while you wait around for me. I thought that was what I wanted tonight, but I went out there and I felt like I was abandoning you. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’d rather be anywhere else than by your side. Okay? Because _this_ , right here, is where I belong.”

Stephen kisses him. Once, twice, then presses his forehead against Hugh’s, a little tearful.

“Hugh,” he says.

Hugh tilts his chin forward to kiss him again. “Yes, baby?”

Stephen draws a heavy breath. “I love you, Hugh.”

* * *

The night is hot and heavy and full of passion. Stephen gasps out his love, kisses it onto every inch of Hugh’s skin like a brand, and doesn’t despise him for failing to answer. After, they lie tangled together, arms and legs intertwined, Stephen’s head pillowed on Hugh’s chest.

“You don’t have to say it,” he whispers against glistening skin.

Hugh touches Stephen’s hair, burying his fingers there. “I know. And I can’t. I’ve never said it, not once in my life.”

“That’s okay,” Stephen says. He seems so sure of himself now, surer than he’s ever seemed. “You show me how you feel. Words don’t matter.”

Hugh turns his head to kiss the fingers curled around his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Stephen. The best of men.”

“No, beautiful. You are.”

Hugh has nothing to say to that.

All night and all next morning, Stephen is more attentive than ever; so attentive it could almost be tiresome. The tenderness that once seemed so sweet is now stifling; the gifts that will keep him alive for one more semester, mere trinkets; the delight of the city turns to fog.

 _I have to get out of this_ , Hugh thinks, but they have another three weeks in New York. He’s got nowhere to go in the city, no way to get back to Philadelphia, but if he just sticks this month out, he can break off with Stephen when they return. Hugh doesn’t like needing him. He doesn’t like hurting him. This _can’t_ happen again.

Stephen’s work finally catches up with him, and he needs to spend the whole afternoon negotiating at the office. Hugh sees him off with a smile and a kiss, and though he’s tempted to stay in bed and lounge around all day, enjoy the space, he’s far behind where he wanted to be in his reading. To the library it is.

Hugh grabs a handful of neurology textbooks and finds the first available table, and within five minutes he’s buried in his work, oblivious to the world around him, until -

“Uh. Hi.”

He looks up to see his stranger standing over him.

“Hi,” he says warily.

“May I sit?”

Hugh levels him with as much contempt as he was given last week. “No.”

“Right.” The stranger hesitates, then sits anyway. Hugh’s glare doesn’t seem to deter him. “Look, I- I know you saw me last night.”

“Hey, it’s your business. I don’t care as long as you leave me to mine.”

The man stares at him, an odd look on his face. “Why don’t you care? It could have been you I-”

A laugh slips out. “You wouldn’t have made it that close to me, stranger.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He smiles, and _damn_ , that’s dazzling. “I’m pretty good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m better.”

The stranger grins. “I knew it! You _are_ like me. You’re a conman, aren’t you?”

Hugh slams his book shut. “I don’t know what you mean, and I think-”

“No, no, no, it’s okay. I’m impressed. I saw you in the club, you know, your game is a lot more sophisticated than mine. So why d’you it? Medical bills? Family?”

“College,” Hugh finds himself admitting despite himself. “Pre-med. You?”

“Masters degree.”

“In mushrooms?”

His stranger’s face lights up. “You noticed that?”

“You don’t see it every day.”

“Mycology deserves more attention, fungi are the -”

“Hey!” a harsh voice hisses. “Break it up, fellas. This is a _library_.”

Hugh meets his stranger’s eyes and they both smother laughs.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the guy says. He packs up and walks away - but not before slipping a piece of paper onto Hugh’s desk.

 _Paul_ , it reads, with a phone number underneath. Hugh smiles, watching after his stranger as he saunters to the exit.

He takes out his phone and creates a new contact.

* * *

Hugh spends the evening in the apartment cooking. He texts Stephen to come home soon and fills the kitchen with the aroma of roast chicken, singing to himself as he washes the chopping board.

“ _L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre battit de l’aile et s’envola…”_

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

He glances up and smiles at Stephen, hovering in the doorway, fiddling with his tie. Hugh wipes his hands on a bit of kitchen paper and approaches, pulling Stephen’s hands away to undo the tie himself.

“I’m no Giudicelli, but I do okay.” He kisses Stephen once, then returns to his food. “How was your day?”

“All the better for coming home to _this_.” Stephen opens the fridge and rummages for a bottle of white wine. “How long?”

“Oh, ten minutes, max. You’ve got time to wash up if you want.”

Stephen smiles at him. “That bad, huh?”

“Wash the day off you. It’s therapeutic. You’ll feel fresh for tonight.”

“Well, tonight’s going to have to last us,” Stephen says, shedding clothing as he goes, “I’ve got to be in the office all day tomorrow. I’m going to be late.”

“You’re kidding. Again?”

“A big client of ours is threatening to withdraw her accounts. I’ll get out as soon as I can.”

The water starts running, but Stephen leaves the door open so they can still talk.

“Hey,” Hugh says, “I ran into an old high school friend at the library today. He’s studying at Columbia. You won’t mind if I spend the evening with him?”

He already has his phone out of his pocket before Stephen’s answer, “Of course not, why would I mind?”

Hugh doesn’t respond, typing instead with one hand as he gets ready to plate up their dinner.

_Hi Paul_

The response is almost instantaneous, he notes with satisfaction.

_\--Hi. Is this the library guy?_

_:)_

_\--Glad you texted_

_Tomorrow night just cleared. Can I tempt you with a drink?_

_\--There’s a place opposite the library_

_\--8 ok?_

_Perfect._

_\--One more thing_

_\--Tell me your name_

“Ready when you are, babe.”

Hugh shoves his phone away, and turns back, smiling. “Let’s eat.”

* * *

“You never answered my question,” a voice says.

Hugh looks up from his drink to see his stranger - _Paul_ \- taking a seat opposite. He smiles.

“And _you’re_ late.”

“Sorry. My lab partner called, there was a problem with the greenhouse.”

“The greenhouse? Oh - mushrooms, right?”

Paul spends the next twenty minutes talking about mushrooms. Hugh can’t help but enjoy it - he only understands about half of what’s said, but that enthusiasm from the same man who looked at him so coldly the first time they met? It’s - well, it’s sexy as hell. Hugh wonders if he’s that excitable over other things in his life. He’d quite like to find out.

“What?” Paul asks, grinning at him over his drink. Hugh smirks back.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hugh sips his drink, makes him wait.

“Tell me,” Paul presses.

He grins. “Make me.”

Then Paul is on his feet, laughing, reaching for Hugh.

“What are you doing? Paul?”

“Dance with me.”

Hugh follows willingly as Paul tugs him by the hand out onto the floor. He twists, and suddenly Hugh is pressed up against him. His breath is hot on Hugh’s neck. His hands are firm on Hugh’s back, his smile enchanting, his eyes enthralling, he’s -

Hugh’s in real danger here.

His hands ride up Paul’s wiry arms, over his shoulders, along that strong jaw - into his _hair_ , and God, that hair, soft and thick and warm. Paul leans into the touch, grinning, encouraging. He twists his head around and nips at the inside Hugh’s wrist. God, he’s sexy. This is trouble. Hugh never wants to leave.

Something buzzes in his pocket, and he reluctantly releases Paul’s hair to fish out his phone.

\-- _finally done for the day_

_\--can i meet ur friend?_

Shit.

Hugh pulls away from Paul’s hold. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve got to go. Text later?”

“Later,” Paul agrees, bewildered, as Hugh is already hurrying off. “Hey - hey, wait!”

Hugh pauses, turns back to face him.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

He grins, hurries over, and squeezes Paul’s wrist one last time.

“I’m Hugh,” he says, and leaves.


	3. this is gonna be one of those things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Hugh and Paul are moving fast, and it feels really, really good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> includes light references to hypothetical non-con.

Spending time with Paul, day after day, is always a fresh delight. Every one of Hugh’s past relationships - such as they were - has been based on a lie. He’s had to make himself agreeable, make them want to please him, had to play up characteristics that aren’t really part of his personality, and above all, has had to learn how to play his marks for everything he can get from them. But Paul isn’t a mark; Paul is a -

_Partner?_

No, it’s far too soon for that. He’s something, though. Something special.

“God, Hugh, what the hell is that noise?” Paul demands, sliding into the seat opposite him in a nice indie cafe.

Hugh stops humming. “It’s _La Bohème_ , you heathen. I thought you were gay.”

“Very, but I don’t _hate_ myself. You can’t actually enjoy that shit.”

Hugh continues his humming, tongue stuck out at Paul as he shields his ears.

“Oh my God. You’re the worst. Go sit somewhere else, please.”

 _Ha_. He makes it too easy. Hugh stands, picks up his tea, notes with satisfaction the flash of alarm in Paul’s eyes. He scans the room, thoughtful, deliberating, then turns back to their booth. Dramatically, he sets his mug on the table and slides in, right next to Paul, sideways on the bench so as to face him, one arm casually resting on the backrest, though folded up awkwardly against his side. Dare he?

“How about…”

Hugh suddenly realises how _close_ he is to Paul. The slightest hint of his aftershave hovers in the air, mingling with the smell of new books and fresh espresso in a way that has started to just mean _Paul_. His eyes bore into Hugh, uncertain but wanting. Hugh notices, like an observer of his own body, the way his pulse is picking up.

“...here,” Hugh finishes lamely. He didn’t pull _that_ sleek move off very well.

Paul gulps all the same, and there’s colour rising under the surface of his skin. “Uh. Yeah. Here’s good.” Blushing, he leans forward, hiding his face in his coffee, and Hugh dares.

He slides his arm right across the back of the bench. It’s not smooth, it’s not subtle, and Paul definitely notices - but he pretends not to as he leans back, shoulder bumping against Hugh’s wrist. The contact sends a little shiver up Hugh’s arm, and he does his best to stifle the smile threatening to break out.

Paul seems to realise, and then he’s grinning too - he reaches out, a little nervous but determined, and settles his hand on Hugh’s knee. “You good?” he asks, giving Hugh a look that’s so open and inviting it’s almost frightening.

“Really good,” Hugh admits. “You?”

“I’m _great_. You know, I thought… I’m only here, I mean here in the city, to run the game and cover myself for another semester. I figured it was going to be kind of a drag, but I… I’m having _such_ a good time with you, Hugh.”

It’s more honest than Hugh expected, but that’s wrong, too - Paul’s never misled him or sugar-coated his words; he uses deception to survive, but Hugh sees how he longs for truth - just as he does himself. It’s really something, he thinks, to finally have someone who understands that.

“It feels special, doesn’t it?”

Paul nods, earnest, still smiling.

“I feel really lucky to have met you,” Hugh adds, doing everything he can to keep the wobble from his voice. “You’ve made this last couple of weeks so much better. I haven’t felt so good getting out of bed in the morning since...”

He can’t finish the sentence. Can’t remember when he last looked forward to going about his day.

Paul’s hand is gently stroking his knee, he registers; just enough pressure to make his presence known. “That’s a crime. What you do, your game… it’s incredible, but it must be exhausting. Nobody really sees you. Right?”

“ _You_ see me,” Hugh whispers before he can help it.

Paul’s eyes bore into his, focused and searching. Hugh looks back and sees a whole world, expanding, evolving… no, coming closer.

He closes the distance between them, and then they’re kissing, firm and tender and _connected_. Hugh’s hand covers Paul’s on his knee while the other curls around the back of his head, embedding itself in soft blonde curls. Paul lifts his free hand to graze Hugh’s jaw, sending delightful shivers through him.

When they part, it’s gentle, neither one really ready to separate. They hover there, faces close together, until after a second Paul’s eyes soften and he pulls away, staring at him with an odd, affectionate look on his face.

“What?” Hugh demands, laughing.

Paul’s flushed, but eager, as ever, ready to say exactly what he’s thinking. “That’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen,” he says, and Hugh _has_ to kiss him for that.

* * *

The next morning Hugh waits outside the library for a full ten minutes before Paul appears, breathless and grinning.

“You might have told me you were running late,” he grouses, but it’s only half-hearted as Paul brushes his protests aside to kiss him chastely on the lips. Hugh smiles into the kiss, forgiving all despite himself.

“I struck gold last night,” Paul tells him as they head into the lobby and start queueing for coffee. “ _Four_ marks, thank you very much. A couple more runs and Cornell will be covered.”

“That’s great,” Hugh enthuses, linking their arms together. “So you can give all your time to your mushrooms again soon?”

Paul smiles at him. “I’m not going back early, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll build up a buffer for next time I need funds. There’s always extra costs.”

“Yes, of course there are, in the high-stakes world of mycology,” Hugh teases gently.

“Shh,” Paul grouches, elbowing him as they approach the counter. “Hi. A double espresso, please, to go, and - what do you want? Green tea?”

“No, don’t,” Hugh is already saying before he’s even thought, “I’ll get my own.”

“I got it. I told you, last night-”

“ _No_ , Paul,” Hugh says firmly.

The cashier is staring at them. “Look, fellas, I don’t care who pays, but you’re holding up the line.”

Paul looks to Hugh once more, but he doesn’t get anywhere; Hugh is set on this.

“Fine,” Paul concedes at last. He pays for his tea and waits while Hugh gets his tea, looking pensive. Hugh joins him and starts for the study rooms, but Paul doesn’t follow.

“Paul?”

Paul heads for one of the little café tables, gesturing for Hugh to join him.

“I’ve got a lot to do today,” Hugh objects, rooted to the spot.

“I’m not going inside until you tell me what that was all about.”

Hugh almost wants to refuse. Saying no just now felt _really_ good, but Paul isn’t wrong to demand honesty from him, and he might understand. He sighs and joins Paul at the table.

“It’s not your fault,” he promises. “I don’t…” There must be a good way to explain it, but Hugh is struggling. “You’re not one of my marks,” he says finally. “You’re not - I’m not here to try and get stuff out of you. I haven’t done anything like this before, whatever we’re doing, but I don’t want it to be like that.”

Paul has softened a little bit, he notices, as a pale bony hand rests over his. “You know, normal people in relationships buy each other things sometimes,” he says. “It’s only a dollar, Hugh.”

“It felt wrong. I know it’s no big deal for you, but my game… I don’t like using people. I have to, and I - you know how it is, you live by a code, you pick your marks carefully, but it’s still....”

He’s fumbling for words, but Paul’s hand is soothing on his. “You still feel guilty,” he murmurs. “I know. It’s okay.”

“The way I treat them is not the way I want to treat _you_ ,” Hugh manages. “And that goes both ways. I’ve _never_ said no to a mark, but with you I feel like I can. Do you get it?”

Paul nods, his brow furrowed. The light in his eyes is dimmed, Hugh realises, and wonders what he’s thinking. He leans forward, trying to catch his gaze.

“Nobody’s ever treated me like you do.”

The words seem to hit Paul like a punch in the face. He stares for a second, two, three, then pushes back his chair, scraping against the floor, and stands. He walks a few steps, then turns back to Hugh, fists clenched and knuckles white.

“How _have_ they treated you?”

“Oh - no, honey, I don’t mean like that. Hey…” Hugh stands too, takes Paul’s hands in his, and guides him away, far from prying eyes.

In a few moments they’re outside again, hit by a wave of cold winter air, and it seems to wake Paul up a little.

“Hugh, just tell me, _please_. What did you mean?” Paul’s voice is vulnerable and shaky, and his eyes are piercing. Hugh takes his face in his hands, reaching up to caress the fuzzy hair behind his ears. Paul’s hands move too, as if of their own accord, anchoring themselves on his waist, hanging onto him.

“Nobody has ever hurt me,” he promises. “I only meant that - I can be myself with you. I’m not playing a role, I’m not trying to please, I’m just _me_. You take me as I am.”

At last, Paul smiles. “ _As you are_ is pretty great, you know.”

Hugh smiles. “Well, _I_ know that.” He tugs gently to guide Paul in for a long kiss. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he mumbles against his lips. He starts to pull away, but Paul chases him, kisses again, and again, and again.

Hugh could really fall in love with this man.

Woah. _Danger, Will Robinson. Let’s not go that far._

“Can I tell you a secret?” Paul says, his touch light and anxious.

Hugh kisses him once in answer, squeezes his hand.

“I’m staying just around the corner from here.”


	4. and i know i'll pay for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh crossed a line today, and now he has to take a risk that might not pay off so well. But... Paul's there.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Hugh scrambles out of Paul’s bed and starts to gather his clothes.

“Hugh?”

The murmur floats through the air, confused and a little hurt. Hugh pauses, still half-naked, and looks back to Paul. “I’m sorry,” he says, in a bit of a jumble, “I know this looks bad, I promise I’ll call you tonight but I _have_ to take care of something. Right now.”

Paul gets out of bed, not minding that he’s naked while Hugh pulls on his shirt. “And you’re okay? You’re not freaking out?”

Hugh closes the space between them and kisses him. “I’m... freaking out a little, yeah. But I don’t regret it. Are… are _you_ okay?”

“Just a little worried for you.”

“Paul, you made me feel really good. Really safe. And I want to talk with you about it, but later, alright?”

Paul studies him carefully before deciding he’s satisfied. “Alright. I’ll see you later, right?”

Hugh kisses him one last time, and Paul is still watching when the door closes between them.

* * *

_\--Hey_

_\--You left so quickly_

_\--Is everything alright?_

Hugh stares down at the texts with shaking hands. His bags are packed and ready to go; he doesn’t have much, but if he sells the silver cufflinks they’ll buy him a night or two in a motel. The rest has to be saved for his tuition, and as for the rest - for getting back to Philadelphia and keeping himself alive - he doesn’t know what he’ll do about that. He just has to get through this conversation.

_\--We don’t have to talk_

_\--But are you ok?_

Well, he _does_ owe Paul an explanation after practically running from his Airbnb like that.

 _Sorry,_ Hugh writes back, trying to keep his breathing steady. _Not a good time. Please can we talk later?_

_\--The bar at 7?_

Hugh had only meant to call him, but thinking about it - he _really_ wants to see Paul tonight.

_I’ll be there._

_\--Take care ok? x_

It’s that last kiss that snaps Hugh out of it a little. It _will_ be okay, somehow. Whatever this thing is, he’s not going to be completely alone in the world. Paul cares for him.

The door opens and Hugh gets to his feet.

Stephen smiles at him, quizzically, from the doorway. “Hey, babe. What are you doing home so early?”

“I, uh…” Hugh’s voice is thick, but he powers through, gestures for Stephen to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait till I’ve taken a shower?” Stephen’s still smiling, obviously in a good mood, and Hugh hates himself for doing this. But it has to be done. He’s the one who crossed the line.

“Not really.”

Stephen crosses the room, still open and cheerful, to take a seat beside him. “Hey. Is that your bag? Hugh?”

Hugh nods, not looking at him. “Stephen, I did something today that I - that’s going to hurt you.”

Stephen’s staring, silent, the smile finally gone from his face. “What happened? Tell me.”

“Okay.” Hugh takes a breath and lets it rush out. “I’ve been seeing someone. We met a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been with him during the day, and I slept with him this morning.”

Stephen’s face is a picture of shock.

“I want to tell you that none of this is your fault, it’s not anything you did, it’s just… I…”

“No,” Stephen says, quiet but steady.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stephen - I’m not here to make excuses, but I owe you an explanation.”

“Bullshit. The least you can do is make it a clean break.”

“Stephen, please, it’s just that I-”

“I _said_ I don’t want to hear it, Hugh. I don’t care if it makes you feel fuzzy or like you _did the right thing_. Don’t you dare make this about _your_ feelings.”

Hugh deflates. “Okay,” he says. “You’re right. I’m just sorry.”

“I don’t care. Get out, Hugh. Now.”

It’s easier this way, Hugh supposes. He grabs his bag and heads for the door. “I really am sorry,” he says, and for once, he’s telling Stephen the truth. “I won’t ever bother you again.”

The door closes behind him and it feels like the end of more than just his relationship with Stephen.

* * *

Hugh arrives at the bar early, bag still on his shoulder and enough cash in his pocket for a drink or two before he finds a motel for the night. He doesn’t plan on drinking much anyway; it might feel really good but it won’t be clever. He enters, looking around, and Paul is already there - in a booth in the corner, waving to him. Hugh manages a small smile as he goes to join him.

“You look awful,” Paul says, reaching out to him before he’s even in his seat. “Hugh, what happened?”

Hugh does his best to smile. “I broke it off with Stephen.”

“Oh.” Paul’s hand caresses his, soothing. “Why?”

“Why?” Hugh pulls away for a second. “Because I can’t have both. When we were just seeing each other, that was one thing, but now - don’t you see how sleeping together is different? Don’t you think things are changing between us?”

“Of course they are. Hey, I didn’t mean we shouldn’t take… _this_ seriously.” Paul gestures between the two of them, hands wavering a little. “I just meant - I thought you wanted to wait till you got back to Philly. Will you be alright?”

Hugh almost lies to him, but he _can’t_ , that’s not who they are. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow, I can’t think tonight.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know all the answers right now.” Paul’s leg drifts forward, making comforting contact with Hugh’s ankle - then he freezes. “What’s that?”

“Oh.” Hugh withdraws a little, self-conscious. “Just my stuff. I packed everything before I talked to Stephen.”

“Shit. You don’t have anywhere to go.”

Hugh shrugs. “I’ll find a motel tonight. I’ve got enough cash for that, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so! You’re coming home with _me._ ”

“Absolutely not.” Hugh shakes his head. “We talked about handouts. I won’t take anything, not from you.”

“God, Hugh, this isn’t a dollar for a cup of tea, it’s important.”

“I live by a _code_ , Paul,” Hugh presses, anxiety running through him. “I draw a line and I _never_ cross it.”

“I’ve got a line, too. I want you _safe_.” Paul moves his head around until he manages to get Hugh to look at him. “I won’t take no for an answer,” he adds, a soft little smile on his face.

Hugh shakes his head, but he can’t refuse; not when Paul is so sincere and means so well. “Thank you, Paul,” he says, his voice heavy. Paul squeezes his hand, then lifts it, kisses his knuckles.

“Come on,” he says, squeezing his hand. “Come home with me, Hugh.”

* * *

Hugh makes short work of neatly laying out his clothes in the drawer Paul clears for him. “I really wish you’d let me pay for this. I can, you know.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” Paul smiles at him, perched on the edge of the bed, watching as he settles in. “You told me you’re a good cook. I thought tonight we could have dinner, watch a movie, you know, spend some time.”

“Oh.” Hugh turns, facing him, surprised. “I kind of thought you’d want to go run your game tonight.”

“I don’t want to leave you on your own. You’ve been through a lot today, let me look after you.”

Hugh does enjoy being cared for like this. Truly, he does, and he values Paul’s company. But tonight…

“I don’t want to keep you from it. You need that funding, Paul, I know how the game’s played.”

“I told you I did well last night. I can take a night off.”

“No, Paul. Please don't.”

“Hugh…”

“You’ve done so much for me already. I’m safe because of you. I’m okay, I’m not scared, because of you. But tonight I really need some time alone to think it all over. Please.”

Paul nods, finally. “I think I understand. And I trust you to take care of yourself. I’ll go, if you really want me to.”

Hugh smiles at him, a true smile, the same smile Paul once praised. “Thank you. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow, I promise. Just... not tonight.”

“Okay.” Paul walks to the wardrobe and pulls out a couple of shirts. “Which do you think?”

“That red one’s _hot_ ,” Hugh tells him, grateful for the change of subject. “Oh, add some rouge. You’ll be fighting them off.”

“Rouge,” Paul echoes, surprised.

“Haven’t you ever tried it?””

Paul shakes his head.

“You’re missing out. Me, I look _great_ in eyeliner.”

“I believe _that_.” There’s a playful smile on Paul’s face that makes Hugh want to melt inside.

“Well, you’re too new to it to try anything too adventurous. You’d look hot with lipstick, but it’s only hot when you’re comfortable. There’s a mascara in my things that’s not too dark for you. Let me try it?”

Paul looks unconvinced, but he nods. “I can always take it off if it doesn’t work, right?”

Hugh nods, though he knows it’ll work. He smiles and digs out the little bag he saves for special occasions while Paul changes. “Oh, look at that, I was right. It _is_ hot.”

Paul’s blush shows up pretty well against the red cloth, too, Hugh observes with satisfaction. “Sit down.”

Paul sits on the end of the bed, arms wide open. “Come at me,” he says.

Hugh has to straddle his knees to get to his face, and enjoying the contact, he leans right forward, steadying his hand against Paul’s cheekbone. “Hold still.”

When he’s done, he steers Paul across the room to the mirror. “And just like that, you’re ready.”

Paul stares. “Wow.”

“I can show you more, but you need to be comfortable and I don’t want to push it tonight. Will you let me make you up?”

“I’ll wear it for _you_ ,” Paul allows. “But not for strangers. This is enough for going out.”

“Okay. Still, think about it. When this vacation ends and you and I go our separate ways, you’ll have a whole new skillset in your arsenal.”

Something in Paul’s face changes. It’s a moment before Hugh realises the colour has drained from him.

“Paul? You okay?”

Paul nods, but he’s stiff and silent, completely altered. Hugh tries again.

“Look, I was just teasing, I don’t mean you should wear it if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Oh… oh, I know, I just…”

Paul backs away as he stammers, creating distance and getting close to the door.

“Paul, really, is everything okay?”

Paul nods. Hugh suspects he’s not telling the whole truth, but he still needs his time to think.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. Well, good luck tonight. I’ll see you later.”

Paul lets out a brief “Bye,” and is gone. Hugh stares after him. What was _that_ all about?


	5. never gonna love again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another life, Hugh would want to keep Paul forever. But we don’t always get what we want.
> 
> Or do we? Or could we?

Hugh carefully lays out his things across the kitchen table. It’s just far enough away from Paul’s bed as not to wake him, though the cramped studio doesn’t give them much leeway in that regard.

One. Diamond ear studs. Really they’re zircon, but maybe he’ll get lucky, sell them to some idiot who doesn’t know the difference. If it can be done anywhere, it’s here in the city.

Two. Ninety-five percent of a bottle of cologne, _nice_ cologne, presented to him on the occasion of the day he told Stephen was his birthday. Hugh almost wants to keep this one; normally he keeps at least one memento at the end of a con, but his situation’s different this time. He can’t waste money on sentiment.

Three. A phone, bought when he’d told Stephen he’d dropped his ancient Nokia in the sink. It wasn’t true, but Stephen had insisted on the latest model. Even second-hand, the phone will get him two or three hundred bucks.

It buzzes in his hand.

Hugh stares as it rings and rings, suddenly frozen in place. _Stephen_ ’s calling. What is he supposed to do with that information?

“Hugh?”

Hugh turns sharply to see Paul stretching in bed, shirtless and drowsy.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rejecting the call and muting the phone in one swift action. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You came in late last night.” He leaves the table and approaches, settling on the bed beside Paul.

“‘S okay. Hey, you were right about the mascara. I scored three times.”

“You must be _irresistible_ in the club.”

“You know it.” Paul waggles his eyebrows, making Hugh laugh.

“Show me?”

Paul is already shaking his head, about to refuse, when his phone rings.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking at the screen. “I actually have to deal with this.”

“It’s okay,” Hugh says, and pulls back to give him a little privacy, but Paul lays a hand on his wrist to keep him there.

“Hey, Justin,” he grunts into the phone. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Hugh knows that Justin is Paul’s lab partner, the one person in the world who cares about mushrooms half as much. He’s also one of very few people in the world who care for _Paul_.

Hugh rather likes Justin, he thinks - but maybe the argument happening beside him is cause to question that.

“I _told_ you it was going to be late! ... Because I’ve been busy, that’s why. ... You’re the one who told me to get a life, you know.”

Paul covers the mouth of the phone and smiles ruefully at Hugh. “I’m sorry. This might take a minute.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Hugh steps away, suspecting that he’s caused Paul some kind of problem, but he figures it’s probably smarter to keep quiet than to make a fuss. He pulls out his phone as he heads back to the kitchenette - and Stephen’s still calling.

_Oh, what the hell._

“Hi.”

“ _Hey.”_ Stephen’s voice isn’t frantic, exactly, but definitely tense. “ _Are you okay?”_

Hugh shrugs, forgetting for a moment that Stephen can’t see him. “I’m fine.”

_“I realised you didn’t have anywhere to go.”_

Hugh sinks into the kitchen chair. Well, he supposes, at least Stephen cared to check, but it’s no good to him. He wanted the clean break. “I didn’t sleep on the street, Stephen.”

_“God. Good, you’re - I mean, are you safe?”_

Can’t this guy be an asshole for just five minutes? It would be so much easier. Hugh wants to lash out, wants to give Stephen good reason to stay away, but…

Paul is across the room, still bickering with Justin, pretending not to watch him.

“I’m safe. I have a roof over my head, I’m going back home tomorrow, you don’t have to worry about me. Just move on with your life. Find someone who deserves you if you can.”

_“We can work through this, Hugh. If I did something wrong, I-”_

“You did nothing wrong. It’s me, it’s all me, but, listen, I don’t _want_ to work through it. We’re over, Stephen, please. Move forward.”

He ends the call before Stephen can argue further.

“You’re going tomorrow?”

There’s a tone of hurt in Paul’s voice. Hugh turns to face him.

“I thought that was implied,” he says, though it’s the coward’s answer and he knows it. “It’s good of you to take me in, Paul, and this has been really special. I just… a lot’s happened, and maybe I should…”

He trails off, feeling weak. Can’t he do better than this?

“I just…” Paul stops for a moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I thought you’d at least stay out the week like you planned.”

“What for?” Hugh asks. He’s here for the _con_ , it’s all about the con, and that’s over. Paul is like him. Doesn’t he get that?

“For me,” Paul admits, his voice small. “I mean, I - I - I _know_ you don’t want this to go anywhere, and I can live with that, but I just - I thought we’d have a little more time.”

He has no idea what to say. This sweet, brilliant, guarded man has chosen _him_ and let _him_ in - and Hugh is hurting one more person. He should have known better. Paul’s prickly, but his pain is written all over him. He’s so vulnerable. So easy to hurt.

Paul smiles at him, sadly, so sadly, and turns back towards his bed. “It’s okay, though. I do understand..”

“I just - I just think it’s better if we don’t complicate our lives. You know? You’re at Cornell, I’m all the way down at Penn State, we both have our games to run, it’s easier.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s simpler,” Paul agrees quickly, pulling on a shirt. “Look, I have to go take care of something. I’ll see you later.”

But Hugh sees the bubbling emotion between the surface, no matter how much Paul tries to hide it. “ _Paul_...”

But Paul’s gone.

* * *

Four hours pass with total radio silence. In the end Hugh has to give up. He pawns his trinkets, gathering his funds as best he can, and, even though he knows it’s useless to focus on biology, he walks to the library.

“Hugh!”

Shit, _really_?

He tries to walk past, but Stephen catches his arm and tugs him back. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

Hugh wrenches free. “Leave me alone, Stephen.”

“No, not until we sort this out! We were happy, weren’t we? Hugh, I _know_ you. You’re a good person.”

God, no, not this. Hugh tries to shove past him. He’s stronger; he can force his way through, but Stephen chases him down, and there are too many people around, and he can’t get away.

“I must have done something. Good people don’t _do_ this. I mean, it wasn’t… it wasn’t _all_ a lie.”

“Yes! It was!”

The explosion’s been bubbling for days, Hugh realises, and it feels _so good_ to finally, _finally_ let his temper loose.

“It _was_ a lie, Stephen, please, I can’t explain this to you any more clearly. I conned you. I did it so well that you believed every word I said and spent a fortune on me, but it was _all_ a lie. I never wanted to be with you, I never loved you, and I don’t want you back now. So will you please, _please_ , for the love of God, leave me alone!”

“I don’t believe you. This is crazy. It’s just _not true_ , it can’t be.”

“It is,” says a third, quiet voice. A pale hand grips Stephen’s arm and hauls him backwards.

Stephen is so stunned he actually backs off. Paul moves around then, puts himself in between Hugh and Stephen, reaches backwards. Hugh takes the offered hand and steps forward, a united front with Paul.

“Go home, Stephen,” Paul says, still quiet and steely.

Stephen gapes, looks to Hugh for help.

“Go home,” Hugh echoes, a little gentler, but just as firm.

Stephen stares a few seconds longer, backing up, and then the crowd has absorbed him. He’s gone.

* * *

The walk back to Paul’s place is quiet and still.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hugh says eventually. They’re still holding hands, connected in the chilly, crowded street.

Paul nods, and they walk in silence for a couple of minutes.

“It was nice that you did, though,” Hugh adds, and gets a small smile for his trouble.

The silence hangs between them, the comfortable weight of shared consciousness, of both their thoughts in how much they care for each other. How much they want each other. Has anyone ever thought so well of Hugh? Has anyone ever seen the real thing and _cared_ for him? Has anyone ever chosen Hugh, seen him, known every ugly truth and still, still, _still_ thought he was worth the trouble? Paul is so kind, and so open, and Hugh wants nothing but him. He’s still quiet, still thinking, and that brilliant mind is only thinking about _Hugh_.

“Do you deal with that a lot?” Paul asks, pulling him back to himself. “Do they… make a fuss like that?”

“No. Stephen was always different to my other marks. He fell harder.”

“He saw more of you than the others did, maybe,” Paul suggests. His voice is gentle, understanding, and Hugh doesn’t ever want to leave him.

“Well… he was easier to be with. I might have stayed with him forever, if I hadn’t met you.”

Another long silence.

“It’s a lot to throw away over a winter fling.”

“Hey,” Hugh lets out, squeezes Paul’s hand, tugs him to a stop. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

Paul is blushing, though that might just be the cold - except he won’t meet Hugh’s eyes. Hugh ducks, trying to connect. He fails.

“Because you _are._ Important to me. And I don’t know how to make my life work without the game… but I do know that I’d be willing to make a change. If it meant I could keep _you_.”

Paul doesn’t pull away from his hand, but he does turn, hiding his face and his open chest. “Could you be with me? Really, though, because you’re right - you have your con, you can’t pay for school without it, and Penn State is so far from Cornell anyway, and…”

“I have one semester left, Paul,” Hugh says. “I could go somewhere new for med school. And... I hear Cornell’s pretty good.”

The words land between them. Paul’s grip on Hugh’s hand goes limp. The breath freezes in Hugh’s chest, helpless to act, hanging on Paul.

Paul spins around and kisses him senseless.


	6. forever is the sweetest con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine months after the fateful meeting in the city, Hugh's first night in Ithaca with Paul is definitely an eventful one.

It’s been nine months since that fateful night in New York City, and tonight is Hugh’s first night at Cornell med school. The music in the club is deafening, blaring, numbing: everything he was hoping for. Hugh drops an empty shot glass on the bar and turns to seek Paul.

 _There he is_. In the far corner of the dancefloor, grinding with a stranger. Whispering in his ear. Touching him…

Hugh muscles his way through the crowd. “Paul!”

The pair break apart, flushed and breathless, and Paul offers him a remorseless grin. “Hey, babe.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ‘hey, babe’ me! Are you _seriously_ doing this? Tonight?”

“Hey,” Paul objects, voice slightly raised, “don’t be such an asshole. I’m only playing a game.”

They’re being watched now. Not the whole club, but those within earshot, those looking for an entertaining fight.

“I can’t believe I _came_ here for you,” Hugh yells, putting all the fire he can summon into the words. He flings himself forward, shoving at Paul’s chest; Paul stumbles backwards into the arms of the guy he was with.

“You _knew_ this about me,” Paul snarls, and Hugh almost takes a step back, a bit shocked at the nastiness in his boyfriend’s face.

“I thought you’d stop when I _moved_ here!”

“We never agreed to that!”

“God, Paul, we shouldn’t have to!”

Paul is glaring at him now with an icier look than he’s ever seen. “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. Quit making such a scene and walk it off, I’ll see you at home.”

“Don’t count on it.” Hugh turns on his heel to make his exit. Behind him, he knows that the stranger is putting his hands on Paul.

~~~

Hugh isn’t waiting at the bus stop long before Paul catches up to him, a delighted grin on his face.

“That was _incredible_ , babe,” Hugh tells him, pulling him by his lapel for a thorough kiss. “How’d you do?”

“Read ‘em and weep.” Paul loosens himself slightly from Hugh’s grip to show off the inner lining of his jacket, stuffed with two fat wallets.

“Nobody saw the extra bulk?”

“Nah. I had a whole ‘don’t look at me’ thing going on. God, you were good.”

“You were better.” Hugh tugs Paul down for another kiss, grip on his jacket vicelike.

“Feeling territorial?” Paul queries, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Noooooo…” Hugh draws out. “Not territorial. But we _will_ be having some very aggressive sex later.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I don’t make the rules,” Hugh shrugs. He tugs Paul onto his lap; there may be plenty of room on this bench for two, but he’ll be damned if Paul sits anywhere but on top of him.

Paul doesn’t look like he has a problem with this state of affairs. “You can make the rules.”

“Oh, I _plan_ to,” Hugh growls, with a playful nip at Paul’s jaw. “Don’t you worry.”

Paul squirms in his lap. “Definitely not worried,” he says, his voice rising a note or two, Hugh notices with satisfaction.

“Good,” Hugh tells his collarbone, then draws back. Paul lets out a quiet whine, chasing his mouth, but Hugh covers him up again with the scarf, though not letting go. ‘Calm down. We’ve got to make it home with some dignity intact.”

“I suppose,” Paul grumbles, but Hugh knows his boyfriend well enough now to discern that this is going to work in his favour later. “How did you make out in there?”

Hugh responds by lifting Paul’s hand to feel his various pockets, where three pricey smartphones and two watches are well-scattered.

“Damn,” Paul remarks, a note of admiration in his tone. “We make a good team.”

Hugh squeezes his hip. “Yeah, we do.”

~~~

Justin is still playing Mario Kart on the couch when they emerge from their bedroom the next morning.

“Did you stay up _all night_?” Paul demands, going straight to the kitchen for coffee while Hugh slumps down beside Justin, barely awake.

“Who could sleep?”

Hugh catches Paul’s eye when he glances back, and smothers a smile. Yeah. It was a good night.

“Aren’t you meant to be checking on the kids this morning?” Paul wants to know next. 

Hugh smiles at him and he visibly softens. Their plan for a comfortable breakfast together might not go like they’d hoped, but they’ve got all day to make up for it. 

“In a - _fuck you, Princess Peach -_ in another hour or so,” Justin agrees. “It is Sunday.”

“Fungi don’t know days of the week.”

“Yeah, well, I do, and so does the bus schedule.”

Hugh leans back and closes his eyes, lets the good-natured bickering become background noise as he rests. It all seems to blur together for a moment, and the next thing he’s aware of is lips - presumably Paul’s - pressed to the top of his head, and the smell of fresh coffee under his nose.

“You’re a god among men, babe,” he murmurs, already drinking.

“Yes, I’ve always thought so,” Paul agrees calmly, settling on the arm of the couch beside him and slipping an arm comfortably around his back. Hugh leans into the touch, enjoying this moment of perfection.

“Don’t encourage him,” Justin puts in, and Hugh realises he’s dressed now, pulling on his coat.

“How long was I out?”

“Only about ten minutes. Justin likes to pretend he doesn’t care about the kids because it makes him seem more sexy and aloof.”

“Oh,” Hugh mumbles, his attention back on the coffee and a little bit on the circles Paul’s rubbing into his back.

In the periphery of his vision, he can see Justin giving Paul the finger, and Paul cheerfully returns the gesture.

“Have fun, boys,” Justin tells them, “don’t be disgusting where I live. See ya.”

The door slams shut behind him, and Hugh slumps down again, using Paul’s precariously balanced thigh as a pillow.

“I forgot how slow you are in the mornings,” Paul remarks, obviously amused. “We can go back to bed if you like.”

“You wanted to show me around,” Hugh counters. He can do it. He forces himself to sit up and downs the rest of his coffee in one go.

“We don’t have to.”

“I’ll wake up once we start walking. Promise.”

It’s a testament to Paul’s excitement for the day that he doesn’t argue, and in another twenty minutes they’re outside, walking hand in hand to the north of the town.

“I thought we’d start at Ithaca Falls and follow the trail to the botanic gardens,” Paul tells him, “it’s really peaceful up there. A great place to talk.”

Hugh smiles, leaning into him a bit, though it’s slightly warm to get as cuddly as he’d like. “That sounds perfect.”

And it _is_ perfect. The trail is lovely, leading them along the river and past several waterfalls. Paul guides him like a pro, talking all the while. Hugh has learned more about fungi in his months of knowing this man than he realised there was to know, but now he discovers that Paul is a man of hidden depths, as he discusses the indigenous flora and fauna without hesitation, full of details about every species they see.

“I’m very impressed,” Hugh tells Paul when he stops for breath, drawing out that rare, lovely smile.

“It’s a beautiful spot,” Paul agrees, “and so much life happens here. You know?”

Hugh can’t help but laugh. “Not the _nature_ , idiot,” he says, punctuating his words with a short, sweet kiss. “ _You_. I can’t believe how much information you pack into that brilliant brain of yours.”

“Oh.” Paul is turning red again; Hugh’s growing quite fond of the way this man blushes. “Well, I… it’s useful to know.”

“It’s sexy, is what it is.”

The walk is quieter after that, but Hugh doesn’t regret speaking; Paul’s silence is as comfortable as his talk, and his company is the thing that matters. Eventually, as they walk around the lake, he pulls Hugh aside, directs him to sit down on a bench. Hugh follows willingly, and Paul reaches into his satchel to produce a thermos flask of tea.

“Oh my God,” Hugh sighs, “you’re wonderful.”

Paul laughs and kisses him again, handing over a cup and pouring drinks for them both. It’s made the way Hugh likes it, with a little sugar, even though Paul prefers his unsweetened. Hugh files away the gesture for further thought later, preferring instead to sip the perfect brew and watch the water with his head on Paul’s shoulder, safe and shielded from the world.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“About last night…”

Hugh sits up and grins at him. “Last night was _great_.”

“Oh, well, um… yeah. That part was pretty wonderful.” Paul’s blushing again.

“I certainly didn’t hear you complaining.”

“But… before that. At the club.”

Hugh squeezes his hand. “What, babe?”

“You don’t… you know I would never…”

“Oh, honey, of _course_ I know. I didn’t say a thing that wasn’t for show.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Hey, we picked the backstory because it was easy to remember, but if it hits too close to home we can change it, okay?”

Paul nods fervently. “I’d prefer that.”

“We can do that.” Hugh kisses his nose. “But you don’t have to worry. I know who you’re coming home with.”

“Yeah.” Paul leans in, and Hugh takes the cue to wrap his arm around his shoulders, holding him close, soothing. “It’s not forever, right?”

“Right. And I’m just glad we can do it together now. You and me against the world.”

A small laugh. “You make it sound…”

“What?”

“Romantic.”

Hugh smiles. “I’ll have to show you just how romantic I can be.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” Hugh kisses him again, this time on his temple, his forehead, his eyelid. Paul is almost limp under his lips, boneless and placid.

“Hugh, I…”

Paul drops silent for a moment. Hugh withdraws, reluctant, but sensing that something important is coming.

“Hugh,” Paul sighs, curling into him again. “I just want you to know. What we’re doing… it’s really something. It’s special. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s _amazing_ , Paul. Really amazing.”

“And I thought I’d be better off steering clear of romance, and all that shit, because I didn’t think I needed anything except my science and the con so I can pay for it. But meeting you… _knowing_ you…”

Hugh knows well enough to wait him out.

“I love you, Hugh,” Paul says, “that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Hugh looks into those beautiful eyes and kisses him, tender and full of warmth. Paul draws away first, a light hand on Hugh’s chest pushing him back.

“I just… I want to say that you don’t have to say it back, I just want you to know. I’m not trying to guilt - mmph!”

Hugh finishes kissing him again, and this time draws back on his own terms, staying close with their foreheads still touching.

“I love you, Paul,” he whispers into the open air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't deny it. I had you going for a second there.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and especially to those who share their thoughts! I've been writing fic on and off for 15 years, but this is the first time that I've ever actually kept to an update schedule, so you know I had a blast. This is a great fandom.
> 
> Watch this space - more to come :)

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @youblowuponesun
> 
> Feedback is so much love!


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